Chapter 1:
So I died?
Reincarnated into a word where men are treated as ornaments?!
◇◆◇
Rain was falling sideways when Makoto Aihana died.
Typical. She’d always pictured her last day being inconvenient.
A car horn, a flash of white, then crunch.
No time for a dramatic speech, no time for anyone to cry out her name.
Just the wet slap of reality saying, Game Over.
When she opened her eyes again, there was no pain—only a pale blue sky and a field of lilies that swayed without wind. The air smelled like spring and laundry detergent. Above her hovered a woman made of light, wearing a smile that was one part motherly, one part customer-service.
“Welcome, lost soul,” the woman said. “I am the Goddess of Bloom.”
Makoto squinted. “Oh. So the rumors were true. You do exist.”
Then she blinked. “Wait—hold on—am I dead?”
“Indeed,” the goddess said gently. “But you need not fear. You lived a life caged by others’ hands. In this next one, you may bloom freely.”
“Bloom freely, huh?” Makoto murmured. “Sounds like a pyramid scheme.”
“You shall be reborn in another world. A place where power, respect, and opportunity flow differently. There, balance has turned.”
Makoto tilted her head. “Balance has… turned?”
“You will see soon enough. Farewell, child. Live without chains.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. Hopefully with less traffic.”
Light exploded, swallowing her whole.
◇◆◇
The first thing Makoto felt was dirt.
Warm, grainy, alive dirt under her palms.
She coughed, spitting up soil, and rolled onto her back beneath a sky streaked by a much bigger sun.
“Holy—” She paused. Her voice cracked deeper than usual. “Wait… what the—?”
Hands. Broader. Shoulders. Heavy.
She scrambled to a nearby pond and stared.
The reflection that stared back was not the short, unimposing thirty-three-year-old woman she’d been.
This person had sharper red eyes, a square jaw, and a mess of brown hair that looked permanently windswept.
“Ha… ha ha ha…” The laugh started small and grew until she was doubled over. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”
She slapped the water, grinning like a lunatic. “I’m a man! I’m actually a guy! Take that, office harassment seminars!”
The echo of her voice bounced across the meadow.
She stood, hands on hips, and shouted at the sky.
“You hear that, Goddess of Bloom? I’m no longer a tool! No more managers telling me to smile prettier for clients! No more creepy comments about my skirt length! I’m free!”
For a glorious minute, freedom tasted like sunlight and absurdity.
Then her stomach growled.
“…Right. Still need food in this world. Figures.”
◇◆◇
The countryside looked like something out of a JRPG: terraced fields, a distant mountain crowned in mist, and a little village tucked against the forest edge. Makoto—now he—marched toward civilization with the swagger of someone who had no idea what he was doing but refused to admit it.
Women passed him on the road, armored and armed. One rode a wyvern, its scales glittering. Another carried a halberd over her shoulder like it was a purse.
The men? They were few, walking behind the women, carrying baskets or tending to children.
Weird kink culture, Makoto thought. But he's not judging.
He reached the village gate, only to be intercepted by two guards in lacquered armor. Both women. Both taller than him by a head.
The first guard frowned. “A man, alone? Where is your escort?”
Makoto blinked. “Escort? Uh… lost him?”
Am I a lord? Holy shit! He grins just thinking about it
The second sighed. “You shouldn’t wander without a sponsor. It’s unsafe.”
Unsafe? For me? He almost laughed.
“Listen, I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.” He flexed an arm for emphasis. “See? Muscles.”
They looked at each other, unimpressed.
The first guard’s tone softened, as if speaking to a frightened kitten. “That’s very brave, but please cover yourself properly. A tunic at least. It’s indecent to show your arms.”
Makoto looked down. He was shirtless except for a tattered undershirt from reincarnation travel.
“…Oh no. The horror. My scandalous man-shoulders.”
The guards exchanged scandalized glances.
One hurriedly draped a cloak over him. “Honestly, the audacity. Go straight to the Temple of Bloom. They’ll find you a keeper.”
Keeper? Makoto thought as he was half-escorted, half-dragged down the street. What am I, a house pet?
Children giggled from windows. A group of women whispered behind fans. Every so often, someone sighed at him the way office ladies used to sigh at cute kittens on posters.
It was… surreal.
◇◆◇
The temple stood at the town’s center, its roof curved like a lotus petal. Inside, incense burned sweet and sharp. Priestesses in silver robes greeted him with serene smiles.
“Welcome, little man,” said the head priestess. “You seem lost.”
“Yeah, I got isekai’d. Happens to the best of us.”
“Ise… what?”
“Never mind. Long story. Anyway, could you point me toward—uh, an adventurers’ guild? Maybe a weapons shop?”
The priestess gasped softly.
“Sweetie, men don’t… fight.”
Makoto raised an eyebrow. “They don’t?”
“Of course not. The Goddess blesses women with strength and wisdom to protect, and blesses men with beauty and gentleness to inspire. Each has their role.”
He stared. Then, deadpan:
“…So basically, women do everything important, and men smile pretty?”
“If that helps you understand, yes.”
Makoto’s mouth twitched. “That’s… amazing. Revolutionary, even.”
“You sound upset.”
“Upset?” He laughed, but it came out half-hysterical. “No, no, this is incredible. My old world was the other way around. I died wishing things were equal, and now I’m in a cosmic punchline.”
He clapped his hands together. “Bravo, Goddess! Ten out of ten irony!”
The priestess looked bewildered.
“Perhaps you should rest? You seem er… exhausted?” A man had never spoken to her this way… how peculiar.
“Oh, I’ll rest,” he said cheerfully. “After I buy a sword.”
“Men aren’t permitted to—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Gentle, inspiring, blah blah.” He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Just out of curiosity… what happens if I don’t listen?”
The priestess hesitated.
“Then… you’ll likely be arrested for defying divine order.”
Makoto grinned wider. “Cool. I’ve always wanted to start a criminal record early in my second life.”
◇◆◇
He left the temple to find the village market buzzing. Stalls lined the streets, women in polished armor bartering for potions and gear. Men sat behind counters sewing or painting charms. Everything shimmered with magic sigils and smug gender expectations.
Makoto whistled low. “Well, at least they have capitalism. That’s comforting.”
He approached a blacksmith’s forge, heat washing over him. The smith—a broad-shouldered dwarf woman—eyed him with surprise.
“Well, well. A boy in my shop. Lose your way, sweetheart?”
“Maybe,” Makoto said. “Or maybe I’m here for a weapon.”
The dwarf laughed, a sound like grinding gravel.
“A weapon? For those soft hands? What’ll you do, file your nails with it?”
Makoto crossed his arms. “Actually, yeah. Maybe while I stab sexism in the knee.”
The smith roared with laughter. “Got spirit! Shame that’s all you’ve got. Run along before someone reports you.”
Makoto leaned on the counter. “You ever heard of gender equality?”
“That an elven dessert?”
He sighed. “Never mind.”
Still smiling, he turned away, cloak fluttering dramatically. “Fine. Don’t sell me a sword. I’ll find my own way to annoy the system.”
◇◆◇
The sun dipped, painting the sky violet. Makoto wandered out to the meadow again, where three moons rose like eyes watching an idiot’s show.
He lay back in the grass, hands behind his head.
So… world where women rule, men drool. Check. Can’t fight, can’t wander, can’t even show arms without scandal. Check. Goddess has a twisted sense of humor? Triple check.
He chuckled softly. “Guess freedom’s not about gender after all. It’s about who gets to make the rules.”
A breeze carried the scent of lilies—the same as when he’d died. Somewhere in that wind, a voice whispered, faint but amused.
“You understand now, little thorn.”
Makoto grinned up at the stars. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. But you should know—thorns sting both ways.”
He sat up, moonlight catching the mischief in his eyes.
“If this world wants me to be a gentle little flower…”
“Then I’ll be the weed they can’t pull out.”
◇◆◇
AN: Because I don't have enough projects right now.
◇◆◇
Rain was falling sideways when Makoto Aihana died.
Typical. She’d always pictured her last day being inconvenient.
A car horn, a flash of white, then crunch.
No time for a dramatic speech, no time for anyone to cry out her name.
Just the wet slap of reality saying, Game Over.
When she opened her eyes again, there was no pain—only a pale blue sky and a field of lilies that swayed without wind. The air smelled like spring and laundry detergent. Above her hovered a woman made of light, wearing a smile that was one part motherly, one part customer-service.
“Welcome, lost soul,” the woman said. “I am the Goddess of Bloom.”
Makoto squinted. “Oh. So the rumors were true. You do exist.”
Then she blinked. “Wait—hold on—am I dead?”
“Indeed,” the goddess said gently. “But you need not fear. You lived a life caged by others’ hands. In this next one, you may bloom freely.”
“Bloom freely, huh?” Makoto murmured. “Sounds like a pyramid scheme.”
“You shall be reborn in another world. A place where power, respect, and opportunity flow differently. There, balance has turned.”
Makoto tilted her head. “Balance has… turned?”
“You will see soon enough. Farewell, child. Live without chains.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. Hopefully with less traffic.”
Light exploded, swallowing her whole.
◇◆◇
The first thing Makoto felt was dirt.
Warm, grainy, alive dirt under her palms.
She coughed, spitting up soil, and rolled onto her back beneath a sky streaked by a much bigger sun.
“Holy—” She paused. Her voice cracked deeper than usual. “Wait… what the—?”
Hands. Broader. Shoulders. Heavy.
She scrambled to a nearby pond and stared.
The reflection that stared back was not the short, unimposing thirty-three-year-old woman she’d been.
This person had sharper red eyes, a square jaw, and a mess of brown hair that looked permanently windswept.
“Ha… ha ha ha…” The laugh started small and grew until she was doubled over. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”
She slapped the water, grinning like a lunatic. “I’m a man! I’m actually a guy! Take that, office harassment seminars!”
The echo of her voice bounced across the meadow.
She stood, hands on hips, and shouted at the sky.
“You hear that, Goddess of Bloom? I’m no longer a tool! No more managers telling me to smile prettier for clients! No more creepy comments about my skirt length! I’m free!”
For a glorious minute, freedom tasted like sunlight and absurdity.
Then her stomach growled.
“…Right. Still need food in this world. Figures.”
◇◆◇
The countryside looked like something out of a JRPG: terraced fields, a distant mountain crowned in mist, and a little village tucked against the forest edge. Makoto—now he—marched toward civilization with the swagger of someone who had no idea what he was doing but refused to admit it.
Women passed him on the road, armored and armed. One rode a wyvern, its scales glittering. Another carried a halberd over her shoulder like it was a purse.
The men? They were few, walking behind the women, carrying baskets or tending to children.
Weird kink culture, Makoto thought. But he's not judging.
He reached the village gate, only to be intercepted by two guards in lacquered armor. Both women. Both taller than him by a head.
The first guard frowned. “A man, alone? Where is your escort?”
Makoto blinked. “Escort? Uh… lost him?”
Am I a lord? Holy shit! He grins just thinking about it
The second sighed. “You shouldn’t wander without a sponsor. It’s unsafe.”
Unsafe? For me? He almost laughed.
“Listen, I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.” He flexed an arm for emphasis. “See? Muscles.”
They looked at each other, unimpressed.
The first guard’s tone softened, as if speaking to a frightened kitten. “That’s very brave, but please cover yourself properly. A tunic at least. It’s indecent to show your arms.”
Makoto looked down. He was shirtless except for a tattered undershirt from reincarnation travel.
“…Oh no. The horror. My scandalous man-shoulders.”
The guards exchanged scandalized glances.
One hurriedly draped a cloak over him. “Honestly, the audacity. Go straight to the Temple of Bloom. They’ll find you a keeper.”
Keeper? Makoto thought as he was half-escorted, half-dragged down the street. What am I, a house pet?
Children giggled from windows. A group of women whispered behind fans. Every so often, someone sighed at him the way office ladies used to sigh at cute kittens on posters.
It was… surreal.
◇◆◇
The temple stood at the town’s center, its roof curved like a lotus petal. Inside, incense burned sweet and sharp. Priestesses in silver robes greeted him with serene smiles.
“Welcome, little man,” said the head priestess. “You seem lost.”
“Yeah, I got isekai’d. Happens to the best of us.”
“Ise… what?”
“Never mind. Long story. Anyway, could you point me toward—uh, an adventurers’ guild? Maybe a weapons shop?”
The priestess gasped softly.
“Sweetie, men don’t… fight.”
Makoto raised an eyebrow. “They don’t?”
“Of course not. The Goddess blesses women with strength and wisdom to protect, and blesses men with beauty and gentleness to inspire. Each has their role.”
He stared. Then, deadpan:
“…So basically, women do everything important, and men smile pretty?”
“If that helps you understand, yes.”
Makoto’s mouth twitched. “That’s… amazing. Revolutionary, even.”
“You sound upset.”
“Upset?” He laughed, but it came out half-hysterical. “No, no, this is incredible. My old world was the other way around. I died wishing things were equal, and now I’m in a cosmic punchline.”
He clapped his hands together. “Bravo, Goddess! Ten out of ten irony!”
The priestess looked bewildered.
“Perhaps you should rest? You seem er… exhausted?” A man had never spoken to her this way… how peculiar.
“Oh, I’ll rest,” he said cheerfully. “After I buy a sword.”
“Men aren’t permitted to—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Gentle, inspiring, blah blah.” He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Just out of curiosity… what happens if I don’t listen?”
The priestess hesitated.
“Then… you’ll likely be arrested for defying divine order.”
Makoto grinned wider. “Cool. I’ve always wanted to start a criminal record early in my second life.”
◇◆◇
He left the temple to find the village market buzzing. Stalls lined the streets, women in polished armor bartering for potions and gear. Men sat behind counters sewing or painting charms. Everything shimmered with magic sigils and smug gender expectations.
Makoto whistled low. “Well, at least they have capitalism. That’s comforting.”
He approached a blacksmith’s forge, heat washing over him. The smith—a broad-shouldered dwarf woman—eyed him with surprise.
“Well, well. A boy in my shop. Lose your way, sweetheart?”
“Maybe,” Makoto said. “Or maybe I’m here for a weapon.”
The dwarf laughed, a sound like grinding gravel.
“A weapon? For those soft hands? What’ll you do, file your nails with it?”
Makoto crossed his arms. “Actually, yeah. Maybe while I stab sexism in the knee.”
The smith roared with laughter. “Got spirit! Shame that’s all you’ve got. Run along before someone reports you.”
Makoto leaned on the counter. “You ever heard of gender equality?”
“That an elven dessert?”
He sighed. “Never mind.”
Still smiling, he turned away, cloak fluttering dramatically. “Fine. Don’t sell me a sword. I’ll find my own way to annoy the system.”
◇◆◇
The sun dipped, painting the sky violet. Makoto wandered out to the meadow again, where three moons rose like eyes watching an idiot’s show.
He lay back in the grass, hands behind his head.
So… world where women rule, men drool. Check. Can’t fight, can’t wander, can’t even show arms without scandal. Check. Goddess has a twisted sense of humor? Triple check.
He chuckled softly. “Guess freedom’s not about gender after all. It’s about who gets to make the rules.”
A breeze carried the scent of lilies—the same as when he’d died. Somewhere in that wind, a voice whispered, faint but amused.
“You understand now, little thorn.”
Makoto grinned up at the stars. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. But you should know—thorns sting both ways.”
He sat up, moonlight catching the mischief in his eyes.
“If this world wants me to be a gentle little flower…”
“Then I’ll be the weed they can’t pull out.”
◇◆◇
AN: Hey! First Honeyfeed book :]
Rain was falling sideways when Makoto Aihana died.
Typical. She’d always pictured her last day being inconvenient.
A car horn, a flash of white, then crunch.
No time for a dramatic speech, no time for anyone to cry out her name.
Just the wet slap of reality saying, Game Over.
When she opened her eyes again, there was no pain—only a pale blue sky and a field of lilies that swayed without wind. The air smelled like spring and laundry detergent. Above her hovered a woman made of light, wearing a smile that was one part motherly, one part customer-service.
“Welcome, lost soul,” the woman said. “I am the Goddess of Bloom.”
Makoto squinted. “Oh. So the rumors were true. You do exist.”
Then she blinked. “Wait—hold on—am I dead?”
“Indeed,” the goddess said gently. “But you need not fear. You lived a life caged by others’ hands. In this next one, you may bloom freely.”
“Bloom freely, huh?” Makoto murmured. “Sounds like a pyramid scheme.”
“You shall be reborn in another world. A place where power, respect, and opportunity flow differently. There, balance has turned.”
Makoto tilted her head. “Balance has… turned?”
“You will see soon enough. Farewell, child. Live without chains.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. Hopefully with less traffic.”
Light exploded, swallowing her whole.
◇◆◇
The first thing Makoto felt was dirt.
Warm, grainy, alive dirt under her palms.
She coughed, spitting up soil, and rolled onto her back beneath a sky streaked by a much bigger sun.
“Holy—” She paused. Her voice cracked deeper than usual. “Wait… what the—?”
Hands. Broader. Shoulders. Heavy.
She scrambled to a nearby pond and stared.
The reflection that stared back was not the short, unimposing thirty-three-year-old woman she’d been.
This person had sharper red eyes, a square jaw, and a mess of brown hair that looked permanently windswept.
“Ha… ha ha ha…” The laugh started small and grew until she was doubled over. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”
She slapped the water, grinning like a lunatic. “I’m a man! I’m actually a guy! Take that, office harassment seminars!”
The echo of her voice bounced across the meadow.
She stood, hands on hips, and shouted at the sky.
“You hear that, Goddess of Bloom? I’m no longer a tool! No more managers telling me to smile prettier for clients! No more creepy comments about my skirt length! I’m free!”
For a glorious minute, freedom tasted like sunlight and absurdity.
Then her stomach growled.
“…Right. Still need food in this world. Figures.”
◇◆◇
The countryside looked like something out of a JRPG: terraced fields, a distant mountain crowned in mist, and a little village tucked against the forest edge. Makoto—now he—marched toward civilization with the swagger of someone who had no idea what he was doing but refused to admit it.
Women passed him on the road, armored and armed. One rode a wyvern, its scales glittering. Another carried a halberd over her shoulder like it was a purse.
The men? They were few, walking behind the women, carrying baskets or tending to children.
Weird kink culture, Makoto thought. But he's not judging.
He reached the village gate, only to be intercepted by two guards in lacquered armor. Both women. Both taller than him by a head.
The first guard frowned. “A man, alone? Where is your escort?”
Makoto blinked. “Escort? Uh… lost him?”
Am I a lord? Holy shit! He grins just thinking about it
The second sighed. “You shouldn’t wander without a sponsor. It’s unsafe.”
Unsafe? For me? He almost laughed.
“Listen, I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.” He flexed an arm for emphasis. “See? Muscles.”
They looked at each other, unimpressed.
The first guard’s tone softened, as if speaking to a frightened kitten. “That’s very brave, but please cover yourself properly. A tunic at least. It’s indecent to show your arms.”
Makoto looked down. He was shirtless except for a tattered undershirt from reincarnation travel.
“…Oh no. The horror. My scandalous man-shoulders.”
The guards exchanged scandalized glances.
One hurriedly draped a cloak over him. “Honestly, the audacity. Go straight to the Temple of Bloom. They’ll find you a keeper.”
Keeper? Makoto thought as he was half-escorted, half-dragged down the street. What am I, a house pet?
Children giggled from windows. A group of women whispered behind fans. Every so often, someone sighed at him the way office ladies used to sigh at cute kittens on posters.
It was… surreal.
◇◆◇
The temple stood at the town’s center, its roof curved like a lotus petal. Inside, incense burned sweet and sharp. Priestesses in silver robes greeted him with serene smiles.
“Welcome, little man,” said the head priestess. “You seem lost.”
“Yeah, I got isekai’d. Happens to the best of us.”
“Ise… what?”
“Never mind. Long story. Anyway, could you point me toward—uh, an adventurers’ guild? Maybe a weapons shop?”
The priestess gasped softly.
“Sweetie, men don’t… fight.”
Makoto raised an eyebrow. “They don’t?”
“Of course not. The Goddess blesses women with strength and wisdom to protect, and blesses men with beauty and gentleness to inspire. Each has their role.”
He stared. Then, deadpan:
“…So basically, women do everything important, and men smile pretty?”
“If that helps you understand, yes.”
Makoto’s mouth twitched. “That’s… amazing. Revolutionary, even.”
“You sound upset.”
“Upset?” He laughed, but it came out half-hysterical. “No, no, this is incredible. My old world was the other way around. I died wishing things were equal, and now I’m in a cosmic punchline.”
He clapped his hands together. “Bravo, Goddess! Ten out of ten irony!”
The priestess looked bewildered.
“Perhaps you should rest? You seem er… exhausted?” A man had never spoken to her this way… how peculiar.
“Oh, I’ll rest,” he said cheerfully. “After I buy a sword.”
“Men aren’t permitted to—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Gentle, inspiring, blah blah.” He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Just out of curiosity… what happens if I don’t listen?”
The priestess hesitated.
“Then… you’ll likely be arrested for defying divine order.”
Makoto grinned wider. “Cool. I’ve always wanted to start a criminal record early in my second life.”
◇◆◇
He left the temple to find the village market buzzing. Stalls lined the streets, women in polished armor bartering for potions and gear. Men sat behind counters sewing or painting charms. Everything shimmered with magic sigils and smug gender expectations.
Makoto whistled low. “Well, at least they have capitalism. That’s comforting.”
He approached a blacksmith’s forge, heat washing over him. The smith—a broad-shouldered dwarf woman—eyed him with surprise.
“Well, well. A boy in my shop. Lose your way, sweetheart?”
“Maybe,” Makoto said. “Or maybe I’m here for a weapon.”
The dwarf laughed, a sound like grinding gravel.
“A weapon? For those soft hands? What’ll you do, file your nails with it?”
Makoto crossed his arms. “Actually, yeah. Maybe while I stab sexism in the knee.”
The smith roared with laughter. “Got spirit! Shame that’s all you’ve got. Run along before someone reports you.”
Makoto leaned on the counter. “You ever heard of gender equality?”
“That an elven dessert?”
He sighed. “Never mind.”
Still smiling, he turned away, cloak fluttering dramatically. “Fine. Don’t sell me a sword. I’ll find my own way to annoy the system.”
◇◆◇
The sun dipped, painting the sky violet. Makoto wandered out to the meadow again, where three moons rose like eyes watching an idiot’s show.
He lay back in the grass, hands behind his head.
So… world where women rule, men drool. Check. Can’t fight, can’t wander, can’t even show arms without scandal. Check. Goddess has a twisted sense of humor? Triple check.
He chuckled softly. “Guess freedom’s not about gender after all. It’s about who gets to make the rules.”
A breeze carried the scent of lilies—the same as when he’d died. Somewhere in that wind, a voice whispered, faint but amused.
“You understand now, little thorn.”
Makoto grinned up at the stars. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. But you should know—thorns sting both ways.”
He sat up, moonlight catching the mischief in his eyes.
“If this world wants me to be a gentle little flower…”
“Then I’ll be the weed they can’t pull out.”
◇◆◇
AN: Because I don't have enough projects right now.
◇◆◇
Rain was falling sideways when Makoto Aihana died.
Typical. She’d always pictured her last day being inconvenient.
A car horn, a flash of white, then crunch.
No time for a dramatic speech, no time for anyone to cry out her name.
Just the wet slap of reality saying, Game Over.
When she opened her eyes again, there was no pain—only a pale blue sky and a field of lilies that swayed without wind. The air smelled like spring and laundry detergent. Above her hovered a woman made of light, wearing a smile that was one part motherly, one part customer-service.
“Welcome, lost soul,” the woman said. “I am the Goddess of Bloom.”
Makoto squinted. “Oh. So the rumors were true. You do exist.”
Then she blinked. “Wait—hold on—am I dead?”
“Indeed,” the goddess said gently. “But you need not fear. You lived a life caged by others’ hands. In this next one, you may bloom freely.”
“Bloom freely, huh?” Makoto murmured. “Sounds like a pyramid scheme.”
“You shall be reborn in another world. A place where power, respect, and opportunity flow differently. There, balance has turned.”
Makoto tilted her head. “Balance has… turned?”
“You will see soon enough. Farewell, child. Live without chains.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. Hopefully with less traffic.”
Light exploded, swallowing her whole.
◇◆◇
The first thing Makoto felt was dirt.
Warm, grainy, alive dirt under her palms.
She coughed, spitting up soil, and rolled onto her back beneath a sky streaked by a much bigger sun.
“Holy—” She paused. Her voice cracked deeper than usual. “Wait… what the—?”
Hands. Broader. Shoulders. Heavy.
She scrambled to a nearby pond and stared.
The reflection that stared back was not the short, unimposing thirty-three-year-old woman she’d been.
This person had sharper red eyes, a square jaw, and a mess of brown hair that looked permanently windswept.
“Ha… ha ha ha…” The laugh started small and grew until she was doubled over. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”
She slapped the water, grinning like a lunatic. “I’m a man! I’m actually a guy! Take that, office harassment seminars!”
The echo of her voice bounced across the meadow.
She stood, hands on hips, and shouted at the sky.
“You hear that, Goddess of Bloom? I’m no longer a tool! No more managers telling me to smile prettier for clients! No more creepy comments about my skirt length! I’m free!”
For a glorious minute, freedom tasted like sunlight and absurdity.
Then her stomach growled.
“…Right. Still need food in this world. Figures.”
◇◆◇
The countryside looked like something out of a JRPG: terraced fields, a distant mountain crowned in mist, and a little village tucked against the forest edge. Makoto—now he—marched toward civilization with the swagger of someone who had no idea what he was doing but refused to admit it.
Women passed him on the road, armored and armed. One rode a wyvern, its scales glittering. Another carried a halberd over her shoulder like it was a purse.
The men? They were few, walking behind the women, carrying baskets or tending to children.
Weird kink culture, Makoto thought. But he's not judging.
He reached the village gate, only to be intercepted by two guards in lacquered armor. Both women. Both taller than him by a head.
The first guard frowned. “A man, alone? Where is your escort?”
Makoto blinked. “Escort? Uh… lost him?”
Am I a lord? Holy shit! He grins just thinking about it
The second sighed. “You shouldn’t wander without a sponsor. It’s unsafe.”
Unsafe? For me? He almost laughed.
“Listen, I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.” He flexed an arm for emphasis. “See? Muscles.”
They looked at each other, unimpressed.
The first guard’s tone softened, as if speaking to a frightened kitten. “That’s very brave, but please cover yourself properly. A tunic at least. It’s indecent to show your arms.”
Makoto looked down. He was shirtless except for a tattered undershirt from reincarnation travel.
“…Oh no. The horror. My scandalous man-shoulders.”
The guards exchanged scandalized glances.
One hurriedly draped a cloak over him. “Honestly, the audacity. Go straight to the Temple of Bloom. They’ll find you a keeper.”
Keeper? Makoto thought as he was half-escorted, half-dragged down the street. What am I, a house pet?
Children giggled from windows. A group of women whispered behind fans. Every so often, someone sighed at him the way office ladies used to sigh at cute kittens on posters.
It was… surreal.
◇◆◇
The temple stood at the town’s center, its roof curved like a lotus petal. Inside, incense burned sweet and sharp. Priestesses in silver robes greeted him with serene smiles.
“Welcome, little man,” said the head priestess. “You seem lost.”
“Yeah, I got isekai’d. Happens to the best of us.”
“Ise… what?”
“Never mind. Long story. Anyway, could you point me toward—uh, an adventurers’ guild? Maybe a weapons shop?”
The priestess gasped softly.
“Sweetie, men don’t… fight.”
Makoto raised an eyebrow. “They don’t?”
“Of course not. The Goddess blesses women with strength and wisdom to protect, and blesses men with beauty and gentleness to inspire. Each has their role.”
He stared. Then, deadpan:
“…So basically, women do everything important, and men smile pretty?”
“If that helps you understand, yes.”
Makoto’s mouth twitched. “That’s… amazing. Revolutionary, even.”
“You sound upset.”
“Upset?” He laughed, but it came out half-hysterical. “No, no, this is incredible. My old world was the other way around. I died wishing things were equal, and now I’m in a cosmic punchline.”
He clapped his hands together. “Bravo, Goddess! Ten out of ten irony!”
The priestess looked bewildered.
“Perhaps you should rest? You seem er… exhausted?” A man had never spoken to her this way… how peculiar.
“Oh, I’ll rest,” he said cheerfully. “After I buy a sword.”
“Men aren’t permitted to—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Gentle, inspiring, blah blah.” He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Just out of curiosity… what happens if I don’t listen?”
The priestess hesitated.
“Then… you’ll likely be arrested for defying divine order.”
Makoto grinned wider. “Cool. I’ve always wanted to start a criminal record early in my second life.”
◇◆◇
He left the temple to find the village market buzzing. Stalls lined the streets, women in polished armor bartering for potions and gear. Men sat behind counters sewing or painting charms. Everything shimmered with magic sigils and smug gender expectations.
Makoto whistled low. “Well, at least they have capitalism. That’s comforting.”
He approached a blacksmith’s forge, heat washing over him. The smith—a broad-shouldered dwarf woman—eyed him with surprise.
“Well, well. A boy in my shop. Lose your way, sweetheart?”
“Maybe,” Makoto said. “Or maybe I’m here for a weapon.”
The dwarf laughed, a sound like grinding gravel.
“A weapon? For those soft hands? What’ll you do, file your nails with it?”
Makoto crossed his arms. “Actually, yeah. Maybe while I stab sexism in the knee.”
The smith roared with laughter. “Got spirit! Shame that’s all you’ve got. Run along before someone reports you.”
Makoto leaned on the counter. “You ever heard of gender equality?”
“That an elven dessert?”
He sighed. “Never mind.”
Still smiling, he turned away, cloak fluttering dramatically. “Fine. Don’t sell me a sword. I’ll find my own way to annoy the system.”
◇◆◇
The sun dipped, painting the sky violet. Makoto wandered out to the meadow again, where three moons rose like eyes watching an idiot’s show.
He lay back in the grass, hands behind his head.
So… world where women rule, men drool. Check. Can’t fight, can’t wander, can’t even show arms without scandal. Check. Goddess has a twisted sense of humor? Triple check.
He chuckled softly. “Guess freedom’s not about gender after all. It’s about who gets to make the rules.”
A breeze carried the scent of lilies—the same as when he’d died. Somewhere in that wind, a voice whispered, faint but amused.
“You understand now, little thorn.”
Makoto grinned up at the stars. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. But you should know—thorns sting both ways.”
He sat up, moonlight catching the mischief in his eyes.
“If this world wants me to be a gentle little flower…”
“Then I’ll be the weed they can’t pull out.”
◇◆◇
AN: Hey! First Honeyfeed book :]
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